Youngster Joey's Savage Journey Into the Heart of Kanto
by nunwithachainsaw
Summary: Youngster Joey sets out on his own with nothing but a cell phone, his blue ribbon Rattata, and a plastic bag containing a frightening collection of psychedelic drugs. What crazy mischief will he get into on his way to the Celadon City department store?
1. Chapter 1

**AN: HELLO EVEYBODY and welcome to my pokemoon fanfic! normally this is we're people say that they do not own pokemon or any of the characers. but as a matter of fact i do own pokemon. my uncle works at nintendo so u haters can suck it my tacher said ihave a way with words and i should write a story so here goes. youngster joemys mother is based on my aunt audrey who talks like that. i hate when she calls and i can tell my mom is going 2 make me talk to her lol. plz leave a comment thank u for readin!**

* * *

**CHAPTER 1**

_A mother's woes... Pretty girls in the street... Youngster Joey claims a bike_

* * *

Youngster Joey's family didn't like him at all because he suffered from untreated bipolar disorder.

"Youngsta _Jeoowey_," his aging mother would frequently caw from the kitchen. "Youngsta Jeowey, I gat my wheelcheeah stuck in the dayam corna ageeeeen. Youngsta Jeeowey ya little shit, quit playin with that dayam Rattata and help ya motha out of huh cheeeeaaaaaaah." Rainy days were the worst because Youngster Joey's mother's arthritis would begin to act up and she would inevitably become trapped in the corner of the kitchen between the refrigerator and the sink, helpless to wheel herself backwards to freedom. On one such rainy morning in Johto, while Youngster Joey was lying in his racecar bed listening to his mother's dreadful shrieks from the kitchen, he realized that his bipolar disorder wasn't going to get better on its own.

I, he realized, _I_ have to make a change. Nobody else. _Me_.

"Jeeeeoooowey," his mother called.

Youngster Joey fished his cell phone out of his shorts and dialed. It rang, rang again, clicked.

"Hellaow?" Youngster Joey's mother's voice asked.

"Hi mom, it's me, Youngster Joey!" Youngster Joey said. He was feeling great today. He was in his manic phase.

"Jeeowey, I need ya help," his mother's voice shrieked from inside the phone.

"I can't talk right now, mom," Youngster Joey told her. He backflipped out of bed. "Rattata and I have to go on a Pokémon journey to discover the cure for bipolar!"

"Youngsta Jeeowey, yuh not old enough, deah. You're only eight. Ya can't leave on no Pokémon journey until you're _ten_."

"Fuck you, ma," Youngster Joey said cheerfully. He had already scooped Rattata up under one arm and bundled it in a classy white scarf. He shut his cell phone, slipped it back into one of the pockets in his khakis, and unfolded his town map. The town map somehow showed a map of every town on every continent in the whole world.

As Youngster Joey shuffled out the door with his perfect Rattata and his other supplies, leaving his screaming mother stuck between the refrigerator and the sink, he was grinning. He was so excited to embark on his Pokémon quest. It would be him and his Rattata against the world!

Youngster Joey knew he had to make it to Celadon city, which was in Kanto, a whole continent away. Celadon had the famed department store, where you could buy all kinds of things. Surely one of those things would cure his bipolar disorder. But as he weaved down the sidewalk with his thrashing Rattata still clenched tightly under his arm, he began to grow paranoid. There were pretty girls outside looking at him strangely.

They don't like my cap, Youngster Joey thought with a whirlwind of terror. He quickly spun it around backward, the way all the badass mother fuckers from his second grade class wore their caps. The pretty girls nodded their approval of this change and went back to their business.

That was a close one, Youngster Joey thought. But his mind was already cramping under the first dark shockwaves of anxiety he had always known to precede his depressive episodes. He would need to move more quickly if he was to reach Celadon in time.

Youngster Joey decided to trade his Rattata for a bike. It seemed like the most logical thing to do, since he was only eight and didn't have any pokédollars yet. Youngster Joey called his Rattata on the phone. When Rattata picked up, Youngster Joey gave it the bad news. The Rattata seemed nonplussed, but didn't have a whole lot to say in response. They went into a Pokémart together.

"Yo, champ in the making!" cried a painfully awkward sunglasses-wearing register dude to Youngster Joey. "Drink this water!"

Youngster Joey hitched up his pants and took the bottle of water from the man.

"That's pure H20, little man!"

Youngster Joey dialed the Pokémart on his cell phone. When the counter man picked up, Youngster Joey said, "Thanks!"

"You're welcome, little bro," the cashier said into the mouthpiece of the phone. He and Youngster Joey were maintaining unbearably intense eye contact. "What can I help you with?"

"I have bipolar disorder," Youngster Joey told him, "so I need to sell this Raticate."

"That looks a little small to be a Raticate," the man said with a suspicious head waggle.

"Listen," Youngster Joey growled into the phone. He set the Rattata on the counter. "Look over the haunches. Check out those teeth. This is a grade-A Raticate, man. Would I lie to you?"

"I guess not," the cashier admitted. He weighed the Rattata on a small scale and told Youngster Joey he could pay one million pokédollars for it.

"Great," Youngster Joey said. Hang on, I've got another call."

The call was from his mother.

"_Jeeeeeooooooooowey._" The phone's tinny speaker crackled with distortion. "Jeeowey ya gotta come home, I can't get outta this corna an I'm missin' the show where they interview the traaaainas."

Youngster Joey could hear the TV squawking in the background. An authoritative-sounding news anchor was asking a girl what her favorite phrase was.

"BIRTHDAY FIGHT," the girl replied. "PERSON COOL," she added.

"Sorry, mom," Youngster Joey said gently. "I'm busy. I'm off on an adventure. I've got my _own_ problems now." He switched back to his call with the salesman. "Sorry about that. That was my hot French girlfriend who I have sex with a million billion times every week and we have seven children together. I'm a cool guy. I've got a girlfriend."

"Oh," the cashier said.

"How much are your bicycles?"

The salesman laughed. "All the bikes here cost a million fucking dollars, kid. It's like that on purpose. We hate seeing kids ride past on bikes, so we make them cost one more dollar than a kid can physically have."

"Well, it just so happens I have a million dollars in store credit."

"What! Oh shit, that's right."

It wasn't long before the sale was final. The cashier stuffed Youngster Joey's Rattata into a tiny cage and wheeled out a brand new Mongoose BMX bike with flames painted on the bars and a bunch of KoRn stickers stuck to the seat.

"Here you go, kid." The cashier stomped the kickstand a few times, bending it to uselessness. "Enjoy your piece of shit million dollar bike. It doesn't even have two speeds. All it can do is way too fast. Gonna be hard as hell to enter doors on this fucking thing."

"You're gonna be sorry you did that. I've got your phone number now. You're never gonna sleep _again_."

Youngster Joey got on his new bike, swerved out into the street, and took the curb like a ramp. He sailed over the heads of two lasses playing with some Togepis and Azumarills. As they looked up to watch him launch through the air like some type of idiot superhero, he held an invisible phone up to his ear and mouthed, _Call me_. The lasses swooned and giggled.

Youngster Joey tore off into the dark mouth of the Pokémon forest.


	2. Chapter 2

**AN: this chapter was v difficult for me to write. it deals with some issues that u have to approch delacately . neway thx for reading i love u all exCEPT FOR THE ASS HOLE THAT WROTE THE REVIEW THAT JUST SAYS "FCKING" that is not helpful andthe day i read that i was 2 upset to practice my saxofphene that day**

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**CHAPTER 2**

_Strange vibrations in the forest... Bat country... A dangerous encounter with a Punk Rocker_

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Youngster Joey skidded to a stop in front of a seven-foot-tall weirdo with Skrillex hair and a lab coat who was lounging against the trunk of a tree.

"Hey kid," the Pokéfreak said. He was grinning down at Youngster Joey with sinister intent. "How's life?"

"Pretty bad, sir," Youngster Joey said. "I lost my best friend today. You wanna trade phone numbers?"

The Pokéfreak's eyes narrowed. "Phone numbers, huh? I got a buncha phones. What kinda number you looking for, kid? Business number?"

"I think so," Youngster Joey said. He had no idea what the Pokéfreak was talking about.

"You ain't friends with none of the Officer Jennys, are ya?"

"Hell no," Youngster Joey said. "You think I'd be caught dead fucking around with popo?"

"Hey kid, you're alright." The Pokéfreak wrote down a number for Youngster Joey on the back of a receipt from the Pokémart. It looked as though the Pokéfreak had recently purchased several bottles of cough syrup, a few lighters, some metal spoons, a hundred pack of disposable ampoules, and some Great Balls.

"Call me whenever you need somethin', kid," said the Pokéfreak. He looked around to make sure no Bug Catchers were watching. "Here," he said, and shoved a little white capsule into Youngster Joey's hand. "Free sample."

"What is it?"

"It's a, uh… CALCIUM. Heh."

"Great!" Youngster Joey cried, and ate the capsule. "I love to eat my vitamins!"

"You're gonna love the hell out of _this_ vitamin, little dude. Smell ya later."

The Pokéfreak slunk off into the woods.

The CALCIUM began to take hold somewhere around the middle of Route 7. Youngster Joey was happily pedaling along when suddenly the air was full of screaming Zubats swooping in and out of his field of vision and flapping their papery wings against his head and face.

"Jesus Christ," he heard himself scream, "what are these goddamn animals?"

Youngster Joey's Pokédex beeped in his pocket. He skidded to a stop and fished it out.

"Hu-man _girl_," the device announced in a sawtoothed electronic voice.

"Huh?" Youngster Joey asked. He looked up. Standing in front of him was a female Punk Rocker. She looked diabolical to Youngster Joey. Her eyes glowed a gloomy, demonic red, and her shirt was torn at the shoulder. Her bra was showing.

"You wanna battle?" she asked.

"Sure!" Youngster Joey cried. He staggered off his bike, let it clatter to the dirt, and put up his fists like a prizefighter. He was sweating heavily. His shirt hung wetly from his skinny shoulders and his eyelid was twitching like crazy. His whole body was buzzing with some type of otherworldly kinetic energy. Sounds and colors had tastes. What was going on? Youngster Joey was getting pumped up for a Pokémon battle, that's what!

"Go, Grimer!" the female Punk Rocker cried. A Pokéball flew from her hand in psychedelic slow motion. A Grimer appeared. Youngster Joey could not stop staring at the folds of muddy flesh that continuously collapsed and reformed on the Grimer's body.

"Griiiimehhh," it said ominously.

"Youngster _Joey_," Youngster Joey growled. He lowered his head and charged. He perceived himself flying through a luminous wormhole toward the enemy Grimer. His eyeballs felt enormous, and he knew he would soon vomit. Youngster Joey crashed into the Grimer's lower body and tumbled with it, killing it instantly and smearing its corpse for ten feet across the dust and gravel.

"Grimer! Use Recover!" the Grimer's trainer screamed desperately. "Kid, what the hell are you doing?! You have to send out a _Pok__é__mon_ to battle! You can't just fucking attack my Grimer yourself!"

"I don't _have _any Pokémon," Youngster Joey said, and vomited explosively. "And I didn't set the Christmas tree on fire, either! I _didn__'__t! _Mommy _lied!_" He was hammering the remains of the Grimer's face with his fists.

"Grimer, return!" the girl shrieked. Grimer's lifeless body was zapped back into its Pokéball. Youngster Joey rose slowly to his feet. He was trembling all over. Puke and blood from his nose had stained the front of his t-shirt and his eyes were watering very badly.

"What the hell's the matter with you?!" the girl cried, taking a few steps backward. "What did you do to my Grimer?"

"Your Grimer was a DA agent, lady," Youngster Joey said. He wrote his phone number down on a scrap of paper. "I just saved your life."

The Punk Rocker took the slip of paper.

"And I suggest you get those eye sockets looked at," Youngster Joey advised her. "Very unusual shapes."

The Pokémon trainer watched Youngster Joey get back on his bike and weave erratically off down the road.


	3. Chapter 3

**AN: aright well sum ppl were massaging me and saying tht yutnster joey does not act liike some1 that has bipolar disease. u know what? u ppl need to get livesn and not think 2 hard abou=t some stupid words on a computer. i also donnot see any pokemon wlaking around out there in real life. if it help u to feel better then just imagine that there is a similar BUT DIFFFERENT disease that exist in pokemon world that just happens to be calle bipllar disorder. and yagster joen has it . ok**

* * *

**CHAPTER 3**

_Lizard in the highway... Team Rocket on the sidewalk... The old man's con... A threat from Ashley's father_

* * *

By the time Youngster Joey came burning down the highway and plowed through a wall of hedges lining the perimeter of Ecruteak city, he was pretty well twisted. Time had ceased to exist, and for the last four hours or so he had been pedaling in a blind rage. There had been an ugly incident a few miles back with Team Rocket, but it was already fading from Youngster Joey's memory.

"Is everything okay?" asked a pretty young Nurse Joy riding on the back of a Chansey. Youngster Joey exploded past her with his breath huffing out of his lungs in furious blasts. He didn't even look in her direction.

Actually, this was what happened: Youngster Joey had gone screaming along the sidewalk and accidentally run over an Ekans ("Snake" backwards) that belonged to a truculent Rocket Grunt. The Grunt had been harassing an old woman—striking her with his whip and stealing her TM36 and what not. Youngster Joey had felt a rush of terrible black vibrations as he crunched over the Ekans ("Snake" backwards), and he slammed on the brakes, itching for a fight.

"What sick son of a bitch left this lizard in the middle of the goddamn highway?" Youngster Joey screamed, throwing his bike into the gutter.

"You little squirt," yelled the Rocket Grunt. The old woman glanced left and right and hobbled off. The Grunt bared his teeth and snarled at Youngster Joey. "I guess you want my Koffing to beat your ass, huh?"

"You ugly piece of shit," Youngster Joey wheezed. "I'll cut you."

The Team Rocket Grunt hurled a Pokéball containing his prized Koffing. The Koffing's nickname was PigShit420.

"PigShit420, use Smoke Screen!" the Grunt shouted. His voice trembled with vengeful fury. How dearly he had loved that Ekans ("Snake" backwards). He'd been its trainer since he was two years old.

But the Koffing's smoke attack was not enough to stop Youngster Joey's vitamin-induced psychosis. The young boy ran up to the Koffing, grabbed it out of the air, and lashed it against a nearby telephone pole. The Koffing hit the pole with a sickening _thunk_ and bounced to the ground, stone dead.

"You fuckin bastard," the Rocket Grunt screamed. He fell to his knees and crawled to his beloved Pokémon, murdered within five minutes of each other. "You worthless piece of street trash. I'll get you for this. I'll get you…"

The Rocket Grunt was ready to beat Youngster Joey's ass for him, but Youngster Joey had already half-forgotten what had just happened. He was dragging his bike out of the gutter and mounting up.

"By the way," he called to the Rocket Grunt as he began to pedal off, "you owe me 155 pokédollars because I beat you."

"You fuckin freak," the Grunt howled. "You didn't win. You just fuckin killed my Pokémon!"

But Youngster Joey didn't hear him. He was already halfway down the street. The Rocket Grunt pulled his knees up to his chest and cried for a while. Ekans ("Snake" backwards) and PigShit420… he would never be able to replace them. But he could at least get some revenge on that little squirt with the cool-looking backwards cap and the t-shirt covered in blood and snot and vomit and pebbles.

The Rocket Grunt placed a call.

As Youngster Joey was appreciating the incredible meaningfulness of the sunlight's checkerboard pattern through the fence next to the sidewalk, three more Rocket Grunts leapt out of the bushes. Youngster Joey came to a stop and leapt off his bike.

"We heard you killed Craig's friends," one of the Grunts said. He was tossing a Pokéball into the air and catching it again, real tough like.

"That's right," Youngster Joey growled. "I'm the greatest Pokémon trainer in the world."

"We'll see about that," said the Grunt tossing the Pokéball. He struck a cool anime pose and cried, "To protect the world from devastation!"

"To unite all peoples," said one of the Grunts behind him, "within our nation."

"To denounce the evils of truth and love," said the third Grunt.

Youngster Joey shoved one of the Grunts into the street, directly into the path of an oncoming street sweeper.

"Team Rocket's blasting off agaaaaaaain," the Grunt cried as his legs were mangled.

"We'll get you next time," said one of the two remaining Grunts.

"Yeah," the other assured Youngster Joey.

"Here's my phone number," said Youngster Joey.

Back in Ecruteak, with most of the day's violent happenings already lost in a psychedelic fog, Youngster Joey had stepped into the Pokémon center to talk to some vagabonds and look in some empty garbage cans. He was chilling out on a bench next to an old man in a dusty business suit with a torn seam. The old man was clutching a flopping Magikarp to his chest.

"How much for the fish," Youngster Joey was asking him feverishly. "I said how _much_, goddamn it."

"I told you it was 5000 pokédollars," the old shyster said.

"No more imaginary numbers," Youngster Joey cried. Flecks of spittle and foam leapt from his mouth and he clawed at the bench with both hands. "We can't do business with these kinds of numbers. I need _tangibility_. I need _integers_."

"Are you all right?" the old man asked.

"Hell yes," Youngster Joey told him, wild-eyed and sweating. "Just give me that fish and we can all go back to the party."

"It's a Pokémon, not a fish," the old man shouted. "And I'm not selling it to some ten-year-old acid freak!"

"Give me the fish," Youngster Joey screamed. "I'm a cool guy. I need a girlfriend and I _want_ that fish."

"Get the hell away from me," the old man croaked.

The argument escalated until a SWAT team of Officer Jennys were called to make everyone calm down. They bandaged the bite wound Youngster Joey had given the old man and told the old man he had to get out of town.

"I don't have anyone," the old man said weakly. "Nowhere to go. Where do you expect me to _go_? It's cold outside…"

But they made the old man leave anyway. They knew all about the scam he was running, and they'd been chasing him down for weeks. Youngster Joey stood at the window of the Pokémon center and watched the old man and his Magikarp shuffle through yellow cones of light from the street lamps until they were gone from sight.

"Where are your parents?" an Officer Jenny asked Youngster Joey.

"My mom is stuck between the fridge and the sink."

"That's awful."

"It doesn't matter," Youngster Joey admitted.

The Jennys found a hotel for Youngster Joey to stay at until the CALCIUM wore off. While he was in his room, he decided to spend a while making phone calls to his friends.

"Hello, Ashley?" he said with considerable pep into his cell phone. "It's Youngster Joey, from school! How's your Clefairy doing?"

"Joey," said a confused, sleepsick voice on the other end. "Joey, it's four in the morning. My dad said he was going to file harassment charges and get you thrown in juvie if you don't stop calling at night."

"Your dad is a Nazi war criminal," Youngster Joey replied. "I'll see you in school on Monday."

Youngster Joey hung up. He lay back on the bedspread and watched the tiles in the ceiling breathe and tessellate and form faces and whisper strange lies until at last he was lulled into a thick, dreamless sleep.


	4. Chapter 4

**AN: do u guys need anytihng from the store**

* * *

**CHAPTER 4**

_A special assignment... A chat with a friend... "This is a bad town for fruit snacks"... A sky full of Ho-ohs_

* * *

Upon waking, Youngster Joey realized that all of the exciting adventures of the previous day had done one thing: made him even hungrier for adventure. He leapt out of the hotel bed (what sweet melancholy it must be for an adventuring Youngster to wake up in someone else's bed and realize for the first time how very far he is from home) and peeled off his ruined clothes, but he left his cap on. It was too important to ever be apart from, even for fifteen minutes. He got into the shower and let the hot water run over his body and the bill of his cap.

What in the world had gone on yesterday, anyway? How had he gotten so many cuts and scrapes, and why did his teeth ache? All he could clearly remember was that he had set out with Rattata on an adventure, that he had sold Rattata for a bike with KoRn stickers, and… then what?

Youngster Joey finished showering, wrung out his cap, put his bloody and dirt-caked clothes back on, and took a look at his cell phone. He went to his contacts list so he could either ask Ashley about her Clefairy or call her father a falcon fucker, depending on who picked up, but his eyes were instead drawn to the fact that he had apparently gained a new friend since yesterday.

"Huh. I wonder who this 'N. Dica' is?" Youngster Joey said aloud. "Well, whoever it is, I bet they could use a friendly reminder about the extremely high quality of that Rattata I used to have." He dialed N. Dica. The line rang and rang again.

"Hello?" said a gravely voice.

"Rattata rules!" Youngster Joey shouted.

"Who the fuck is this?"

"It's me, Youngster Joey."

The Pokéfreak laughed. "Oh yeah. You. Hey kid, how'd you like those CARBOS?"

"I thought that was CALCIUM," Youngster Joey said.

"Yeah, whatever. What can I do ya for?"

"Hmm. Do you have any fruit snacks?"

The Pokéfreak cackled. "I ain't heard it called fruit snacks in years, kid. I like you. I'll have a buddy of mine drop off a little variety pack in about 30. Smell ya later."

Youngster Joey closed his cell phone and put it away. "All _right_!" he said, pumping his fists. "_Fruit_ snacks are coming!"

Two hours later there came a knock at the door. Youngster Joey had been watching Duck Tales on the hotel's TV. He got up and answered the door, and found himself staring up at a Team Rocket Grunt.

"What's happenin there, little space traveler," the Grunt muttered, and came bustling into the hotel room. He shut the door firmly behind him. "Heard you might be lookin' for some fruit snacks."

"I love fruit snacks!" Youngster Joey cried.

"How grand. Tell you what, home slice. You can keep _these_ snacks for free if you make a little delivery for us. You'll even get to join Team Rocket and wear the costume and everything."

"Wow!" Youngster Joey said. "I can't wait to call all my friends and tell them I got my _first job!_"

The Team Rocket Grunt laughed. He opened his pack and took out a long rectangular package wrapped like a birthday present, and handed it to Youngster Joey.

"Here's the goods. You wanna head across town to that creepy burnt out tower. You're gonna leave the package there. Don't stay too long, don't talk to nobody, don't answer no questions. _Don__'__t _make no eye contact with no Officer Jenny."

"Which one?"

"_Any _of 'em. They're bad news, kid. Got it? They'll fuck you up and steal your escape ropes off your corpse. I seen 'em do it. Big cyclone of blue hair and police boots. They can strip a man down to his skeleton in under thirty seconds. Swear on my mother's grave."

"Whoa!" Youngster Joey exclaimed.

After the Grunt left, Youngster Joey thought about having some fruit snacks. He looked in the plastic bag containing his variety pack and found a strange assortment of candies that seemed suspiciously free of amusing fruit shapes. A bunch of pills and capsules and little rust-colored pellets had collected at the bottom of the bag, which was otherwise filled out by dozens of perforated paper squares decorated with cool anime drawings of Mewtwo.

What the hell is all this stuff? Youngster Jimmy wondered, turning the bag this way and that. He decided to try crunching one of the little red pellets. It tasted spicy and and foul. He put his bag of fruit snacks away and took out his cell phone and placed a few calls. First he had a forty-minute shouting match with Professor Elm. Then he talked to Caleb from school for a while about how much they both hated homework. Then he called his friend Gold.

"…" said Gold, upon answering the phone.

"Hi Gold, it's me, Youngster Joey!" Youngster Joey said happily. Gold made no reply, although Youngster Joey could clearly hear him breathing on the other end. "What are you up to, Gold? Ran into any cool wild Pokémon lately? I'm on a Pokémon journey, too! I met some new friends yesterday!"

Gold continued to breathe loudly into the mouthpiece.

"Pretty neat, huh? I also got my first job! I'm going to deliver some fruit snacks for Team Rocket!"

Gold said nothing.

"All right. Well, see ya later!"

Youngster Joey hung up the phone and started looked at his hands. He looked at the hands for over an hour, trying as hard as he could to wrap his head around the incredible workmanship of his joints and the miles of mysterious nerve fibers that lay coiled beneath the elaborate disguise of his skin. He felt as though he might start to float, and everything had a strange, shimmery glow. The bed had become a giant marshmallow. Objects around the room looked unusually flat, as though they had been drained of depth, but their colors had become terrifyingly vivid.

"I've got to get out of Ecruteak," Youngster Joey said in a breathy, intense voice. "This is a bad town for fruit snacks." He got up drifted out of the hotel.

On his way down the street, the legendary Pokémon Ho-oh swooped down and accosted Youngster Joey.

"HAAAAAAAAAAWWWW," Ho-oh shrieked. Flames erupted from its mouth and eyes. Youngster Joey stood awestruck in the shadow of the ancient beast. His pupils were like the mouths of cannons.

"Wow," he said.

Ho-oh seemed to be challenging Youngster Joey to a Pokémon battle! Out came the Pokédex.

"_Ho-_oh," the 'dex announced. "This, legend-ary Pokémon has been _sight_-ed since, ancient _times. _Its breath is hot, enough to _melt planets. _No known Pokémon can best it in one, to one, _com_bat."

"That's a bunch of horse shit," Youngster Joey said. "My Rattata would've ripped off this thing's head and shit down its neck."

Youngster Joey pulled out an Ultra Ball and threw it at the Ho-oh. The ball struck the mythical beast in the chest, bounced off, and drew it inside. Right at the perfect time, Youngster Joey pressed Down and B. The ball turned to the left. The right. It hopped, rolled in a little circle, and then fell still. The Ultra Ball glowed white and then—_boop!_ The Ho-oh was caught.

"Hey, that kid just caught the mythical Pokémon Ho-oh, which every Pokémon trainer in all of Johto eventually catches!" shouted a nearby construction worker. His Ho-oh, perched on a nearby street lamp, squawked in agreement.

"Congratulations, little boy! Today is your Ho-oh Day!" cried the mayor of Ecruteak as she trotted briskly down the steps of City Hall. Her Ho-oh, like many of the other Ho-ohs belonging to anonymous Pokémon Trainers milling about, was busy swooping through patches of long grass and using its fire moves to eradicate entire clans of level 12 Drowsees and Jigglypuffs without even trying. The mayor used a bird whistle to call it over, and the Ho-oh flapped over and landed on the roof of a small car. The children inside the car screamed in mortal terror.

"Have this commemorative plaque," the mayor told Youngster Joey, and handed him a cheap picture frame with a piece of printer paper stuck crookedly underneath the splotchy glass. On the paper had been scribbled:

_Good work on catching Ho-oh. Trade this voucher for 50 cents off Rare Candies at all participating __Pok__é__mart locations. Limit: 999 Rare Candies per customer._

"Aw man," Youngster Joey said, looking down at the disappointing Ultra Ball in his hand. "You mean _everyone_'s got one of these things?"

"That's right," the mayor told Youngster Joey with a chipper smile. "And on top of that, it's considered super lame to use your new Ho-oh in battles. Both with your friends _and _against Gym Leaders."

"Aw _man,_" Youngster Joey moaned. A tear slid down his cheek.

"Aw, cheer up, little boy," the mayor said. "It could be worse, right?"

"Not really," Youngster Joey said. As he walked down the street, shoving people's Ho-ohs out of the way left and right, he tossed the Ultra Ball containing his new legendary Pokémon, which he'd already nicknamed PENI$BUTT, into a garbage can. He got on his bike and pedaled over a bridge that led out of town. He was still carrying Team Rocket's parcel and feeling as though his head was operating at an altitude of about 15 feet while his body was stuck on the ground.


	5. Chapter 5

**AN: i wathced a wicked cool dacumetery about afrian driver ants so this chap kinda shows how cool they r. ALSO PLZ SOTP MESSATING ME ABOUT THE WRITERS IN THIS CHAP THAT the cue balls talk about. the cue balls views do not reflec tmy own views. i love slandiger and for "ashley with love and squallor", great storys. thx 4 reading plz leave a review,**

* * *

**CHAPTER ****5**

_A Snorlax problem… A violent encounter in the drunk tank… Jenny's secret pleasure_

* * *

Somehow, Youngster Joey ended up in the desert. A patient observer, had there been anybody around to fill such a roll, might have been able to witness our young hero pedaling standing up, throwing his entire weight into each forward push, lashing sweat off his bangs and the tip of his nose, rippling with heat waves and shielding his dilated pupils against the ravenous sun. He was hours deep into his mystic vision quest and utterly determined to claim the secrets it promised were his by right.

When Youngster Joey had been pedaling aimlessly through the sand dunes for about forty minutes, he reached a hallucinatory impasse. The impasse was a Snorlax lying face down in the sand like a giant black beanbag.

Youngster Joey slammed on the front brakes, flew over the handlebars, and landed in a heap before the Snorlax. He was terrified. He had no idea how to make his way around the gigantic beast. He had no Pokémon with which to battle it and no Pokéflute with which to wake it. He would have to resort to the tactics employed by his spirit brothers—_the African driver ants._

Youngster Joey scuttled rapidly over the body of the Snorlax, instinctively probing its thick fat for weak points between body segments. He flopped his arms and legs around like fumbling antennae. He used his sensory organs to detect smells, sights, and tastes. Eventually, Youngster Joey decided to begin with the Snorlax's left arm. He used his powerful mandibles to grip and crush the gargantuan Pokémon's bones and connective tissue and slowly worked his way inside the arm. From within, he could slowly eat his way back out to the surface and in doing so divide the arm from the rest of the body. Youngster Joey worked tirelessly taking the Snorlax apart limb from limb. When at last he had finished his gruesome work and devoured all of the Snorlax's life-sustaining internal juices, he got back on his bike and rode on. The Snorlax's carcass lay motionless under the harsh sunlight of a truly Sunny Day.

Youngster Joey pedaled for hours through the desert. He had a wonderful time because he was seeing the future and feeling the vibrations of ancient ley lines worshipped by the Native Johtoites in the Long Long Before. That little red fruit snack had really hit the spot.

In the morning, Youngster Joey woke up in prison. He had no idea how he'd gotten there, but it was no hallucination. His head pounded, he was thirsty, and someone had confiscated all of his fruit snacks and other gear (_INCLUDING MY PHONE,_ he thought with a feverish throb of anguish). He was in a holding cell with several tough-looking Cue Balls wearing matching leather jackets and pairs of black jeans. The Cue Balls were arguing and starting to become violent.

"Salinger was a _scavenger,_" one of the Cue Balls screamed at one of the others. He rose to his feet and clenched his shaking fists before him, nearly blind with rage. "He was a twentieth century fad! Nothing but a vapid regurgitation of ideas everyone had already learned from Dostoevsky!"

"Salinger gave us 'For Esmé—With Love and Squalor,' you degenerate _swine_!" the other Cue Ball roared. Soon he too was on his feet, standing nose to nose with the other man.

"I should slash your face open for even _reading _that grocery store checkout aisle dreck," shouted the first Cue Ball. He shoved the other man hard. "'For Esmé' never should have been put in the same collection with 'Bananafish.' It was the equivalent of the ballad track on an '80s hair metal album. Did the man really expect anyone to believe a word he _wrote _after subjecting us to that cloying bellyful of empty calories?"

"Fuck both of you," screamed a third Cue Ball, who also rose to his feet. "No man—_no man in the history of literature__—_has given as much to the craft as Hemingway. _Not_ Salinger. Not Dostoevsky. Not even _Faulkner_."

Now the rest of the Cue Balls were on their feet, shoving and screaming. "I suppose next you'll want to compare Tchaikovsky to Liszt," someone accused, and then Youngster Joey watched a beer bottle explode over the top of a bald head. Blood was immediately everywhere, spurting, coating the floor, filling the air itself with a heavy metallic reek.

I can't stay here, Youngster Joey's mind whimpered from someplace very dark and very far away. I can't survive in prison with these wild animals masquerading as men.

He curled himself into a vibrating terror ball and wept silently in the corner until an Officer Jenny entered the cell to remove the corpses of the three Cue Balls killed during the argument.

"Can I make a phone call?" Youngster Joey asked her.

"Of course, little boy!" the Officer Jenny said brightly. The Jenny let Youngster Joey come out into the hallway and use the pay phone. Youngster Joey called his mother.

"Jeeeowey," she cawed. "Jeeeowey, where are ya. Ya nevah came home f'dinnah and all these cocka-roaches have got inta the basement."

"Sorry, mom," Youngster Joey said. "I'm on a Pokémon adventure. Do you have 2,500 pokédollars? I need someone to bail me out."

"Jeeowey you know we don't have nothin extra. I told yous that a hundred times."

Youngster Joey sighed and moved the phone to his other ear. "Fine, ma. I guess I'll just have to get myself out of this jam."

"That's the spirit, Jeeowey," his mother said.

"Bye."

"Bye, Jeeowey. By the way I'd really appreciate it if yous could stop home when you getta chance and help me outta this corna—"

Youngster Joey hung up. He turned to the Officer Jenny.

"Did you have a good phone call, little boy?" she asked him with a warm smile.

"I sure did, ma'am. How can I get bailed out if my momma doesn't have anything extra and can't afford the 2,500 pokédollars?"

"I'll let you go if you give me the rest of those amyls," Officer Jenny said.

"Huh?"

"Those poppers you were sniffing when we found you masturbating inside the Global Link club."

Youngster Joey had no idea what she was talking about, but he let her take the box of amyl nitrates she wanted and then left the jail. He got on his bike and pedaled off in the direction of the harbor.


	6. Chapter 6

**AN: alrieght every body i have heard enough emssages about youngstet joey growing the beard and how that would not wrok in rl. WELL\ HOLY COW YOU NIT PIKING BASTARDS GIBVE ME A BREAK who cares if it ould not happen irl**

* * *

**CHAPTER ****6**

_Ship of souls… Goodbye, old friend… A delightful floor puzzle… Youngster Joey kills again_

* * *

Upon Youngster Joey's arrival in the harbor, he was greeted by a crew of terrified chubby Sailors. He came whipping around a corner in the shipyard and had to slam on the brakes to avoid making bowling pins out of the trembling group of men.

"What's wrong with you guys?" Youngster Joey asked as he nervously jerked his bloodshot eyes from face to face. He was getting some terribly discolored vibes from these Sailors, and his haggard expression didn't hide it. Youngster Joey looked something like a wild hyena looks while being given a tranquilizer and manhandled onto a stretcher by a pair of greenhorn veterinarians. His skin seemed to be in a permanent state of flying back from his face, which gave him an uncomfortable, urgent look. Dark circles hung for miles under his eyes. His hair was a grease scrambled mess inside the prison of his backward facing cap. His teeth hadn't been brushed in six days, and a fine stubble of beard growth had begun ghosting up the sides of his chubby little cheeks.

"We want to go sailing," said the Sailor nearest to Youngster Joey, motioning grandly with his arms and rousing several cheers of agreement from his crowd of friends, "but we can't!"

"Why not?"

"Our ship is infested with guh-guh-guh-_ghosts_!" the Sailor wailed. Youngster Joey cranked his head to the right and looked out over the harbor. The Sailors' ship, the S.S. J. Vegeta, stood statuesque on the rippling water, cloaked and flattened by fog, beckoning him to come, sail.

Youngster Joey shoved one of the Sailors out of the way and pedaled at breakneck speed toward the S.S. J. Vegeta. He exploded through a migrant worker's fruit stand, flew over the heads of some old men drinking Super Potions at a small table, and high-fived a Krabby on his way up the ship's ramp. Once on deck, Youngster Joey was forced to stop and admire the way a hypnotic torrent of blood was erupting from the first mate's quarters in terrible slow motion and crashing up along the walls and sweeping buckets and mops and other debris along with it in its unstoppable explosion across the deck of the ship. The blood was a deep, rich, velvety black that tessellated and transformed before Youngster Joey's eyes. He could hear voices inside the blood, voices that urged him to kill himself and to take everyone he loved down with him.

"I'm not afraid of no _ghosts_," Youngster Joey shouted defensively. He lifted up his bike and tossed it overboard, as if angered by it. For a while Youngster Joey played a strange movement puzzle in which he had to step onto arrow-shaped tiles that sent him cycloning down hallways into other arrow tiles or onto sticky tiles that allowed him to stop. The puzzle seemed to take forever, and he messed up several times. When at last he had at last solved the ship's puzzle and collected the Elevator Key which someone had thoughtfully hidden inside a Pokéball and left at the very back of the ship's last and hardest-to-reach room, Youngster Joey walked into the elevator and went down to B2, where tradition predicted the ghost was hiding.

When the elevator stopped and the doors opened, Youngster Joey found himself staring into a dark room. He stepped out. Invisible wind currents howled on the deck above. The elevator closed and locked behind him, pinching his source of light to a sliver before killing it completely. He was alone now, and swallowed up by darkness.

"Who's there?" Youngster Joey cried. His voice echoed back: _there, there, there._

But the ghost didn't answer.

Youngster Joey didn't have time for this shit. He had to sail to Celadon so he could find the cure for his bipolar disorder. Youngster Joey fumbled around in the lightless gloom until his hands found a large, round object. He picked the object up and whipped it at the ceiling. Amazingly, it landed with a crashing thud against something that was clearly organic.

"Ooooof," cried a deep, wavering voice. Something fell from the ceiling and hit the floor. The lights came back on. Youngster Joey found out that he had thrown a globe at a Gastly and nailed it right in the face.

The Gastly lay dying on the ground. It blinked its large eyes out of sync. It opened its mouth and tried to speak but could not. Youngster Joey ran up to it and punted it like a kickball, knocking it away into the bowels of the ship. The Gastly was dead. Perhaps its violent demise would convince its spirit to someday return to the place of its death to haunt and terrorize the living—but that was a risk Youngster Joey was willing to take.

"I defeated the ghost in a Pokémon battle," Youngster Joey said to the Sailors outside when he had returned. "That blood thing should stop now."

"What happened to your bike?" one of the Sailors asked.

"I threw it overboard," Youngster Joey said.

"Oh," said the Sailor.

The Sailors agreed to let Youngster Joey sail with them across the ocean to Kanto. In return, Youngster Joey let them chew on the Mewtwo blotter squares he had in his bag of fruit snacks. The Sailors ran laughing and screaming through the ship's labyrinthine underbelly, crashing into one another and becoming injured by the dangerous machinery. After a few months, during which Youngster Joey grew a full imperial beard, the ship arrived in Kanto.


	7. Chapter 7

**AN: thx to u alL! u have all help me get this far. i hope u guys like this 1 its' about laveter town. cant u just hear that music ! no joke my friend dan used 2 plya hockey w a kid who comeitted suicide after hearin the lavengter song. **

**AN#2: fuck u all who send me all tho messags about how that is a meme and not real i dot care && i would like to see u tell that to dans hockey friends moms face**

* * *

**CHAPTER 7**

_A call from home... Planchette gives advice... Mr. Fuji learns his lesson... A sexy motorcade_

* * *

After Youngster Joey's summer at sea, he disembarked in Lavender Town.

Lavender was an old town with old, old blood. The sky was a low ceiling of endlessly morphing charcoal clouds that crawled over one another like damned men. A skeletal forest wrapped the town and held it permanently captive in wintry gloom. The central attraction was known as the Pokémon Tower—a seven story above ground pokégraveyard. Youngster Joey thought he sensed the influence of fruit snacks in the construction of the tower, which contained thin "death layers" between the actual floors to contain the corpses of perished Pokémon and doom their souls to forever walk the earth. There was also a gift shop.

Youngster Joey's cell phone rang. It was his mother calling.

"Youngsta Jeeowey," she screamed. "How come ya neva cwall home no more?"

"I guess I just forgot."

"Fuh-GAWT?!" Youngster Joey's mother screeched. "They been comin' around lookin' f'yous, Jeeowey! The police! Oh Jeeowey it's hawrrible, I think they wanna arrest you! I awlways knew this would happen! My only son, livin' a life of crime, dealin' drugs, murderin' otha kids' Pokémon…"

But Youngster Joey hung up on his mother without replying. He didn't have time to talk to her because he could see some exciting toys in the window of the Pokémon Tower gift shop. He sprinted to the window with his backpack flapping noisily against his skinny back and holding Team Rocket's parcel (which he still hadn't gotten around to delivering to the burned out ruins in Ekruteak) up at a jaunty vertical angle.

"Wow!" Youngster Joey exclaimed. He blew breath on the window of the gift shop and used his sleeve to wipe a clean circle through which to gaze. There were all kinds of wonderful toys inside—Antiparalysises, Antidotes, Burn Heals, even Hyper Potions.

Youngster Joey pushed through the doors and began to look through the shop's merchandise. Behind the counter was the clerk and town historian, Mr. Fuji. He was currently leaning over a Ouija board, pushing the planchette around with his slender old man fingers and clamping his eyelids shut in rapturous concentration.

"Like," Mr. Fuji muttered to the air above the board, "is there anyone out there who can tell me where can I score some good mescaline or something?"

The planchette shivered beneath Mr. Fuji's fingertips and then slowly drifted across the board to the B. He gasped. The planchette wiggled over to O. Then to Y.

BOY, the spirit was saying.

Mr. Fuji looked up and saw Youngster Joey digging through a pile of expired Full Heals near the back of the store. "Hey, kiddo!" he called.

"Hey little bro," he said warmly as Youngster Joey shuffled up to the counter scratching his beard. "Ordinarily I would never ask this of a kid, but since you've got that giant beard and all…"

"What is it?" Youngster Joey said.

"I haven't been able to trip in months," Mr. Fuji whispered. "I was in Ecruteak over the summer and was planning to have myself a little cactus party, but some lowlife stole my package before I could pick it up!"

"What kind of Pokéfreak would do something like that," Youngster Joey demanded, and bitterly shook his head from side to side in an elaborate show of condemnation.

"Right? And my spirit board here suggested that you might know where I can grab some goods on rather short notice."

"Goods?"

"You know," Mr. Fuji said, and winked. "Mescaline, acid, some mushrooms… hell, I'd even settle for an eighth of some really dank weed at this point."

"Weed?" Youngster Joey screamed, leaping backwards in terrified surprise. "That's drugs! Drugs are bad for you!" His heart began to pound. Drugs! This lecherous old man was asking him about _drugs_!

"Dare to keep kids off drugs," Youngster Joey sobbed, and turned so hastily to leave the store that he banged into a rack of clearance DVDs of _Transformers: Dark of the Moon_. He scrambled out through the door, slammed it shut behind him, and ran crying toward the hospital. He needed some counseling right away.

"Honey, I'm sure you just misheard what Mr. Fuji said," a kindly Nurse Joy told Youngster Joey. They were sitting together in a nicely decorated room in the hospital that was full of picture books and Highlights magazine and framed pictures of Chansey. The Nurse Joy had extremely lovely breasts. Youngster Joey pressed his face deeper into their pillowy softness and sobbed even harder.

"I _didn't_ mishear," he whined. "That shitty old piece of crap wanted to sell me _drugs_!"

"Aw, honey," the Nurse Joy told Youngster Joey.

Just to be on the safe side, the Nurse Joy called one of her cousins, an Officer Jenny, and told her what the little boy had reported. The Officer Jenny told her fellow Jennys, and pretty soon a blue cyclone was tearing down Main Street toward the gift shop. It blew the shop's door off its hinges, shattered all the windows, and set about ripping the cash register away from the wall while Mr. Fuji screamed and flailed his arms in helpless despair. When the Jennys settled down and began to investigate, they discovered a glass smoking device known as a water pipe or "bong" in the back room. Mr. Fuji was sent to federal prison for 108 years and would not be eligible for parole until he had served at least 54 years.

Youngster Joey hated drugs more than anything. His mama had raised him right. In sorrow and fury, he cursed the name of the sinful old man in the gift shop that had almost corrupted his innocence and then rode with an Officer Jenny on the back of her sexy motorcycle over to Celadon City. His quest was almost finished!


	8. Chapter 8

**AN: ok litsen up u stupid moter fuckers. i hav been getting alot of mean messages and some deat thteats about this chap. someone actually wrote that they we're goin 2 wait until i fall asleep and slit my throat from ear to ear. beCUASE THEY DO NOT WANT YOUGSTER JOEY AND LASSJENNY 2 BE a couple. well guess wat u penis necklaces it is my storry and anywasy if pokemon company did not wat ppl to like offiter jenny and think she is a desiring sexual women then they would NOT HAVE make her so hott. ppl have also coplained about how did mr fuji come towards them in the other direction if they left lavedner town right after mr fuji got arrested well if u dont likeit go read sum damn digimon fanfictin OK FUCK ALL THE HATERS GOOD NITE !**

* * *

**CHAPTER 8**

_The rest stop__… __A Lass in distress__… __Back on the highway__… __The Jenny that got away_

* * *

Youngster Joey squinted into the driving wind and hugged himself more tightly around the Officer Jenny that he was riding behind. They were traversing a desolate highway Route that spanned Lavender Town and Celadon City. The police helmet Jenny had given Youngster Joey made him look like a bug-eyed mutant. He was frightened and he had a small erection and Officer Jenny kept shouting things over her shoulder to him that he couldn't hear well enough to understand.

Eventually Jenny slowed down and turned off the highway into a rest stop. She helped Youngster Joey dismount and dusted his shoulders off. Jenny's motorcycle ticked and popped hotly in the late afternoon shade. Grass was swaying. Someone's Pidgeot was bouncing around sniffing people's food and advising them with its sawtoothed coos. Youngster Joey looked up into the breasts, and then into the eyes, of Officer Jenny. She took off her helmet and shook an ocean of wavy cyan locks out over her shoulders.

"Wow," Youngster Joey observed.

"You need to take a piss, kid?" Officer Jenny asked him, and stood impressively with her hands planted on the tops of her long hips. Youngster Joey swallowed hard. He was trying desperately not to let his eyes flick down to the sliver of belly he could see between Officer Jenny's belt and the bottom of her shirt.

"I'll do whatever you want me to, ma'am," said Youngster Joey.

"Then go piss. And here. Take this taser. If anyone tries to talk to you while you're in the bathroom, give him ten thousand volts right between the nuts and tell him I said hello."

Youngster Joey wandered off in search of the bathroom. When he was finished pissing all over the urinal and half the wall like a little punk, he went back out into the main lobby and found a group of fat Ace Trainers shoving and harassing a Lass that appeared to be a smaller and younger version of an Officer Jenny. The Lass' name was Jenny, too. When her parents had realized that their daughter was, through some poorly understood natural process, an Officer Jenny, they had shipped her away to the police academy and changed their locks. They never wanted to see their Jenny again because they were bad guys. They were afraid of what she would be would required to do to them once she reached adulthood and fulfilled her destiny as an officer of the law. Lass Jenny's father had "FUCK THA POLICE" tattooed across his forehead, and her mother was a snazzily-dressed Team Rocket Admin. They could not risk having an Officer Jenny in the house.

"What're you gonna do?" one of the Ace Trainers said as he shoved Lass Jenny hard into one of the others. "Use your magic _'__police powers__' _on us?"

Youngster Joey knew exactly what to do. He walked up behind the bully and electrocuted him in the balls.

"Thunderbolt, mothafucka!" Youngster Joey shouted as the Ace Trainer convulsed in bitter agony and the taser went on snapping between his legs. After Joey finished kicking the shit out of the Ace Trainers and taking their pokédollars and throwing them out out on their asses, He and Lass Jenny got to know each other.

"_My _favorite color is green _too_!" Lass Jenny said. She blinked back tears of relief and affection. She had never met such a charismatic or dangerous little boy as Youngster Joey. She wanted to go with him to the ends of the earth.

"I want to go with you to the ends of the earth," she told him.

"I'm only going to the Celadon Department Store," Youngster Joey said. "But you can ride along with me and Officer Jenny if you want."

"You mean—you mean there's a real Officer Jenny out there, right _now_?" Lass Jenny asked.

"Yeah. She's pretty cool, too. I think she's the same one that stole my amyls when I was in the clink."

"Wow," said Lass Jenny, marveling at the kaleidoscopic immensity of Youngster Joey's worldliness.

When they went back outside, Officer Jenny gave Lass Jenny an encouraging hug and promised her that it gets better, and that she was confused when she first realized that she was an Officer Jenny, too. They all climbed onto the motorcycle together and then Officer Jenny cracked one of the amyls she'd stolen from Youngster Joey three chapters ago under her nose and inhaled a giant hit.

"What's that thing?" Lass Jenny asked.

Officer Jenny giggled. "Woo!" she said, giving her head a wild shake. Then she turned and looked at Lass Jenny and gravely added, "For my angina pectoris." Laughing again, Officer Jenny settled her helmet over her head and gunned the engine. They were back on the road! The bike squealed out onto the highway and rocketed off toward the horizon at 120 miles per hour, scattering wild Sandshrews with its cannonball headlamp and kicking up a titanic dust cloud that whipped through the open back window of a cop car headed the opposite direction, where it burned the eyes of Mr. Fuji, who was being driven to prison by a different Officer Jenny.

"Christ, oh shit, that fucking sand! Roll up the window!" Mr. Fuji screamed. The Officer Jenny scoffed contemptuously and pressed the Window UP button. "Junkie shitlord," she muttered as Mr. Fuji hacked up a lung.

"Are we there yet?" Youngster Joey shouted over the wind to Officer Jenny.

"Yes," said Officer Jenny. She parked her bike in the parking lot of the Celadon Department Store and shot the kickstand with one casual boot heel. She was the coolest fucking thing Youngster Joey had ever seen. He didn't understand his feelings. He loved Officer Jenny _and _Lass Jenny. If he ever lost either of them, he'd be a broken man for the rest of his living days.

"Well, I gotta head back to the station," Officer Jenny said. She snatched Youngster Joey's bag of fruit snacks out of his hand and fished around inside. "What're these?" she asked, coming up with one of the little red pellets. "Is this mescaline?"

"I dunno. It's just a fruit snack."

Officer Jenny eyed the pellet suspiciously, shrugged, and popped it into her mouth. She made a bitter face and gave the bag back to Youngster Joey. "You kids have a good time at the mall," she said. Then she climbed back onto the bike, brought the engine to explosive life, tore off down the street, and broke Youngster Joey's heart forever.


	9. Chapter 9

**AN: FUKK ALL U THSI IS THE LAST CHAP BECUZ PPPL KEEP SENDING ME SHIT ABOUT HOW THE STORY IS NOT GOOD AND IT DOT MAKE SENSE IN SOME PARTS WELL FUK U H8ERS I HOPe u like it**

* * *

**CHAPTER 9**

_The roadblock... Another war... Invasion from the skies... A good day to be alive_

* * *

Youngster Joey took Lass Jenny by the hand and led her toward the Celadon department store.

When they were nearly to the store's entrance, they noticed a bunch of Ace Trainers standing in a strange formation about the sidewalk. They were spaced several yards apart and all facing one another. They periodically flicked their eyes to Youngster Joey and Lass Jenny, but seemed held rigidly in place by some mysterious rule. It was clear that they intended to battle the fuck out of anyone foolish enough to try enter the store, one at a time, until their victim's Pokémon were completely exhausted. At that point, the group would steal exactly half of the unfortunate trainer's money, carry him or her to the Pokécenter, and leave silently before they were discovered.

Lass Jenny noticed that they were Ace Trainers and squeezed Youngster Joey's arm.

"Don't worry," he whispered to her. "I have a plan to get around these guys."

The Ace Trainers suppressed smiles of sadistic mirth as Youngster Joey and Lass Jenny got closer. They were ready to spring to life and demand battles the second the two kids entered their sidewalk gauntlet and interrupted their lines of sight. But Youngster Joey, made cynical and wise by his months of travel and reckless fruit snack abuse, simply glared at them and walked around their roadblock in a broad arc at just great enough a distance to avoid detection. One of the Ace Trainers yelped unhappily, but he would neither call out to them nor turn to look. They were simply too far away ever to be known—they were as safe from the Ace Trainers' plot as the stars of distant galaxies billions of light years removed from Earth are safe from humanity.

"That was close," said Lass Jenny as they slipped in through the automatic doors.

"Nah," Youngster Joey said. "Those guys were just a bunch of stupid fuck nuggets."

The inside of the department store was overwhelming. Everywhere the two kids looked, there was something new to see. It was as if the World's Fair was unfolding before their very eyes; a group of scientists were performing amusing tricks with Tesla coils and other dangerous electrical equipment, Punk Rockers were playing a death metal remix of the gym leader battle music on a stage in the center of the food court, and visible beyond the escalator were some Hikers getting in a fight with a group of Cue Balls.

"Hey, I think I know those guys!" Youngster Joey said.

"Really?"

"Uh huh. I'm pretty sure it's them, anyway."

He and Lass Jenny wandered over to the progressing fight. A Cue Ball in a leather jacket with a penis bedazzled onto the back was shouting in the face of one of the Hikers and gesticulating wildly with his stubby arms.

"I'm almost unable to accept that people of your sort could still exist," the Cue Ball screamed. "Imbeciles, drifting like helium balloons through only the topmost layers of some of the 20th century's most important works. Reading _Catch-22 _with no more purpose than a hobo flipping through a mud-smeared Playboy!"

"Get out of my face, you neo-Nazi piece of shit," the Hiker screamed.

"Not until you admit you're wrong," said the Cue Ball.

"You idiot," the Hiker bellowed. "I never said it was a bad book, I just said I personally saw it as _primarily_ a humorous one. Yes, yes," he said, holding up his hands in a weary gesture of warding, "I know all about Snowden in the back of the plane, and Aarfy raping that girl, and McWatt committing suicide after accidentally cutting the kid in half when he buzzed the beach in his plane. But the _main fucking theme of the novel is ridiculousness for the sake of ridic__—_"

The Cue Ball whipped out a switchblade and stabbed the Hiker in the gut.

"Ooof," the Hiker grunted, doubling over and staggering back a few steps. He winced, clutched at the hole in his belly, felt the freshets of blood spurting out through his fingers, groped in his jacket for a Pokéball. "Geodude," he gasped, "I ch-choose you…"

The Geodude erupted from the Pokéball like a warhead and slammed into the Cue Ball's chest, crushing his ribcage and knocking him sprawling into a sunglasses kiosk.

"Maybe we shouldn't talk to them right now though," Youngster Joey said, and ducked with Lass Jenny behind some recycling bins before the Cue Balls could recognize him. "These aren't guys you want to have to testify against."

"Didn't you want to find medicine to cure your bipolar disorder?" Lass Jenny asked.

"Oh yeah!"

They crept away from the battle between the Hikers and the Cue Balls and went up to the third floor, where medicine was sold.

"I miss Officer Jenny," Youngster Joey said.

"I know you do," Lass Jenny replied with as much empathy as she could muster. "But, you know, Joey, someday _I__'__ll_ turn into an Officer Jenny…"

Youngster Joey looked at her. "You will?"

"Whether I like it or not."

"Wow," said Youngster Joey. "Want to eat some fruit snacks with me?"

"Okay!"

Youngster Joey and Lass Jenny each ate a mescaline pellet and sat for a minute giggling in each others' arms, feeling hot saliva welling at the roots of their tongues. Youngster Joey, feeling adventurous and manic, called Professor Elm on the phone. It rang twice before the young professor picked up.

"This better be good, you little ass wipe," Elm growled.

"Hey, Professor Elm, it's me! Youngster Joey!"

"I know," Elm said, sulking. "You call me nearly every day, and I can't get your phone number blocked ever since I broke up with that girl who works at the phone company."

"Have I told you about that Rattata I used to have? I think it was in the top percentile of Rattatas. Like it was really something else. Y'know?"

"You son of a bitch," Professor Elm cried in helpless exasperation.

"Hey, Professor Elm, if I really like a girl… and I want to ask her out…"

"For Christ's sake, don't talk to me about women."

"But I _really _like her," Youngster Joey said, staring meaningfully into Lass Jenny's eyes. She swooned and put her arms awkwardly around his neck.

"Joey," Elm snarled, "I haven't gotten laid in three years. Hey, I know. Why don't you call her?" He slammed the phone down with a wild crash of white noise and then the line went dead.

"I like you, too," Lass Jenny said.

"Someday I'll come to your house and kiss you and do sex stuff with you," said Youngster Joey, smoothly as hell. Lass Jenny's heart melted and she fell in love that very moment.

They got up and went to the medicine counter.

"Hi," said Youngster Joey to the register man. "I'd like something to cure my bipolar disorder, please."

"Er," the man said, frowning.

"What's wrong?"

"You need a prescription for antidepressants and antipsychotics and other drugs like that," the guy explained.

"Oh," said Youngster Joey. He and Lass Jenny stood motionless, in perfect cathedral silence, for forty minutes. A long line built up behind them. Suddenly, they snapped out of it.

"Wow, these fruit snacks are pretty good," Lass Jenny said, flicking her eyes nervously around.

"Right?" Youngster Joey said, and vomited.

"Dang," Lass Jenny remarked. The vomit was moving and spinning and its electromagnetic field was experiencing erratic spikes and dips.

"Let's get out of here," Youngster Joey said. He took her by the hand and they ran down the wrong escalator, laughing and screaming and tumbling for a seeming eternity down the rising stairs until at last they landed together in a heap at the bottom.

Suddenly, Mewtwo attacked!

The ceiling of the building was vaporized in an instant, revealing a swirling purple vortex of Psychic-type energy. Youngster Joey screamed. This was not an easy scene to tolerate with a head full of mescaline and a pretty girl on his arm.

Mewtwo descended from the sky and landed before Youngster Joey. He pointed one alien paw at the pair of kids with murderous sternness.

_You, _Mewtwo said telepathically inside Youngster Joey's brain. _The world__'__s greatest Pok__é__mon trainer. I challenge you to a battle._

"Get fucked, you pansy," Youngster Joey screamed, and charged at Mewtwo's legs from a weird half-crouch. Drops of vomit whipped from his chin and cheeks as he plowed into his target, but Mewtwo was unharmed.

_I am level 100, _it informed Youngster Joey smugly. _None of your attacks will be able to do much against me. _

Mewtwo lifted its paw and prepared to use Psychic. Psychic was a devastating attack and would almost certainly kill Youngster Joey in one hit. Lass Jenny screamed. Youngster Joey lowered his head, knowing he was beaten, and simply waited for the lights to go out. But just then, right as the swirling doom fog coagulated around Mewtwo's paw and readied itself to end Youngster Joey's life, a black blur leapt out of the shadows and intercepted the attack.

Youngster Joey watched it happen in ultra vivid slow motion. Rattata came blasting out of his peripheral vision wearing the classy Focus Sash Youngster Joey had wrapped around its neck in the first chapter and used Endeavor right before the Psychic landed. Rattata was knocked instantly to 1 HP, but Endeavor dropped Mewtwo to 1 HP as well. Both Pokémon stood eying one another warily.

"Rattata…" Rattata growled. Mewtwo sneered and lifted its fist to use Mega Punch, but Rattata was too quick—much too quick, in fact. Rattata used Quick Attack and did 1 damage to Mewtwo, which killed it.

"Rattata just saved our fucking lives," Youngster Joey panted. He and Lass Jenny shivered together behind the brave little Pokémon.

"Rah… Ra_ttata_…"

"After all I did," Youngster Joey said, "after all the fruit snacks I ate, and all the people I inconvenienced, and after I sold you for a bike, which I later threw away for no reason… you still came back to save me…"

Mall goths and other department store patrons that had gathered to watch the battle clapped apathetically.

Youngster Joey helped Lass Jenny to her feet and gathered Rattata up in his arms. "I always knew you were in the top percentage of Rattatas," he said.

"Rattata!"

"What did it say?" Lass Jenny asked.

"Rattata says he always knew I was a bad ass mother fucker," Youngster Joey explained. His eyes were watering. He kissed Lass Jenny on the mouth and thought about doing sex stuff with her later on, and Lass Jenny thought about that, too.

"Man," Youngster Joey said, pulling away from the kiss and smiling. "I'm high as fuck."

"Me too!"

"Let's steal a motorcycle and ride to Hoenn!"

"Yeah!"

They went outside and hot-wired one of the Cue Balls' Harley Davidsons. Youngster Joey rode up front, with Rattata's face sticking out the collar of his shirt. Youngster Joey's pupils were like the mouths of wells. Lass Jenny was curled up behind him with her arms around his waist and her cheek pressed against his shoulder.

"Give me one of the amyls," she said as Youngster Joey gunned the engine and Rattata squealed with excitement. He turned around and looked at her.

"For my heart," she said, laughing. She took the capsule from Youngster Joey's fingers, cracked it under her nose, and sniffed it up.

_Bruuuu-huu-huh-huh-huh-hummmm! _The motorcycle pealed out of the parking lot and onto the street, carrying its psychedelic lovebirds and their impossibly good Rattata off into the Pokémon sunset, with hearts full of medicine and heads full of mescaline. It was a good day to be alive.

"_Rattata rules_!" Youngster Joey's voice cried, echoing across the city.

"_Rattata!_" Rattata's voice added, growing ever more distant.

The Cue Balls came out into the parking lot and watched the kids speed away.

"They stole my bike," said one of the Cue Balls, thumbing a wet line off his cheek and smiling sheepishly, "but god damn if that's not the most adorable thing I've ever seen in my life. Let's go get drunk and curb stomp the first guy that doesn't like Steinbeck."

The Cue Balls took off for the nearest tavern, roaring and pumping their fists, ready for anything.

** THE END**


End file.
